Behind Every Man
by RapunzelK
Summary: Hojo is one messedup guy. Just how did he GET that way, anyhow? They say behind every man, there is a woman and that a boy's best friend is his mother.


Behind Every Man

Josephine started and dropped her book as she was rudely slapped across the face. What had she done now? She looked up into her Father's stormy countenance. It was always Father who slapped her. A slap across the face for "You forgot", a slap upside to the head for "You are stupid", a vicious shaking for "Where is it?". Mother didn't care. Mother never spoke to her and hardly ever came out of her room.

Father was still shouting at her. If only he wouldn't speak so quickly. Still, the pattern was familiar. He wanted to know why she wasn't doing what he wanted. What did he want? She followed his lips. Shirts. Something about shirts. He probably wanted to know if she had finished the laundry. Jumping up from her seat she went to the kitchen and took the pile of neatly ironed and folded shirts from the wooden ironing board. Father snatched them away angrily and stomped off, turning once only to growl something back at her.

She did not blame Father for being angry with her. She was dull and stupid and slow. She never fully understood what it was people wanted her to do. Father was never pleased with her and Mother didn't care. Mother was often surprised by Josephine's presence in the house. Mother forgot sometimes that she had a daughter. Perhaps that was why Mother was the way she was; she wanted to forget that Josephine was there. Josephine sometimes wished she wasn't there herself. Mother was good to her in that she left her alone. Father was good to her, Josephine knew that. Father worked hard all day at his job and earned money to feed Mother and herself. If only Father would leave her alone as Mother did. Josephine wished she could go to school. She did not understand anything in school, but Father was not there. Teacher had shown her what to do with letters, but Teacher had been displeased with her because she could not speak the letters. Josephine could understand how letters were arranged to say things, but could not speak what the letters said. Teacher had been angry with her for that. The other children had gathered around her once. One had pulled her hair and made a face at her. Josephine had only looked at them blankly until they all went away. After that she had been sent home to stay with Mother and had not been allowed to go back to school.

Josephine sighed and walked out the screen door into the tiny back yard. Rodger was doing something with the doghouse in his own yard. Rodger was the boy who lived in the house next to hers. She knew his name was Rodger because the words "Rodger Katsuya" were printed on his toolbox. Rodger was still in school. Rodger was smart. He like to build things, liked to fix things. Rodger did not leave her alone the way Mother did, but he did not touch her the way Father did either. Father's touches hurt. Rodger's did not. Father only touched her to slap or punch. Rodger had poked her shoulder with his finger once, but that had not hurt. He knew she was stupid, but that was all right. He spoke to her often while he worked in his back yard even though he knew she didn't understand what he was saying. He was saying things to her now. What did he want? He was pointing to the doghouse. Perhaps he wanted to know if she thought he had done a good job on it. Josephine smiled and nodded to show that she thought the doghouse was lovely. Rodger grinned and laughed, shaking his head at her. She had misunderstood again. Josephine lowered her head and blushed, ashamed. If only she weren't so stupid. He leaned his elbows on the fence and smiled at her, amused. What was he smiling about? He crooked a finger and placed it under her chin for a moment. Josephine blushed, confused. What was he doing and why? He looked past her and then pointed towards her house. Josephine turned to see her father standing in the doorway shouting. Now what had she done? Or not done? Waving to Rodger, she turned and went back inside. Father rapped the back of her head with his palm as she went through the door. She had upset him once again. Could she do nothing right?

Josephine stared out her tiny window. There was only one window in the attic where she made her room. The square of glass faced Rodger's house, providing a view of his backyard and a corner of the patch of grass behind the house she lived in. Josephine liked her little room. Father usually did not come up here. He had come up only a few times to yell at her, shake her, hit her, and finally shove her to the floor. She did not blame him. She was stupid and a disgrace. How could anyone leave an ugly, ignorant daughter alone? Mother left her alone. Josephine wished Father was more like Mother- or better yet more like Rodger. Rodger had touched her in a strange way this evening. Absently she felt the spot where Rodger's finger had touched her chin. This was a touch Father had never used on her. Father's touches only told her what she all ready knew: that she was stupid, slow-witted, and disgraceful. What had Rodger's touch meant?

"He likes you." Aviana spoke up.

Josephine blinked. "Don't be ridiculous. Liking only happens in books, in places like yours."

"Now you're being ridiculous. He seems like a nice kid, but I wish I knew what he was saying. I don't know why but... I don't know."

"What?"

"Nothing." Aviana shook her head making her feathery, nearly white hair flow back and forth. Her long crystal earrings swung and clinked together like silver chimes. Josephine had often wondered why she could speak and hear the things inside her own head. Aviana had a book written about her, a beautiful book full of fairies and magic and fantastic creatures. Aviana herself was such a creature. She could turn into a bird if she wished. Right now, Aviana stood in her human form- a girl shorter than Josephine with white-blonde hair, silvery eyes, in a filmy white dress, and white feathered wings on her shoulders. Kreed, Josephine's other mental friend, looked on amused from his corner where he sat fletching arrows. Kreed was from a separate volume which was also about Aviana's world. He was about Aviana and Josephine's age. He had only one eye, wore mostly tanned animal hides, and carried his bow and arrows and tools for making such weapons. Kreed noticed the two women looking at him and quickly turned his attention back to his arrows. "I can't understand anyone." Josephine sighed forlornly.

"Oh stop it. You're about as dumb as a dictionary."

"What?"

"Never mind." Aviana folded herself into her dove form and perched on the nearest surface and began to preen her snowy feathers.

"Don't let Father stop you from having a life. That's all."

"'Having a life'? Aviana, would you PLEASE speak plainly?"

Aviana sighed pleasantly in exasperation. "If you want to talk to Rodger then go ahead."

"I CAN'T talk to Rodger!"

"Don't be so darned literal. I mean spend time with him if you feel like it. Just be careful."

"If you say so."

Father had gone out earlier in the evening so Josephine took up the heavy metal trashcans and lugged them out to the end of the back sidewalk. They were too heavy to lift, so she dragged first one and then the other across the slate stepping stones. Once she had gotten the cans outside the fence, she sat down on top of one and looked up at the dimming sky. Stars were beginning to sprinkle into existence. Josephine smiled to herself a little. Stars were so pretty. Across the fence Rodger was completing the same chore of taking out the garbage, except he was easily carrying the trash receptacles to the end of his own yard. Josephine watched him as he effortlessly moved the cans from one end of the yard to the other. Rodger noticed her watching him and waved. Closing his gate behind him, he came over and sat down next to her and began speaking. Josephine watched his face politely, but his lip movements were unfamiliar. What was he saying? He edged closer to her. After a minute he moved closer still. Another minute passed and he inched still closer, so close that she was nearly edged off her seat. If he wanted her spot then he was welcome to it. She should go inside anyway. Josephine made as if to get up, but Rodger caught her arm and gently pulled her towards himself. What was he doing? Rodger looped one arm around her waist and drew her face close to his with the other. Josephine blinked, confused by his actions. Rodger moved his hand from her face to her shoulders and slowly brought his mouth closer to hers. She began to feel afraid and then Rodger's lips touched hers. Fear vanished to be replaced by an unfamiliar feeling. Closing her eyes, Josephine allowed herself to absorb all of the feeling that she could. This was a touch she could become accustomed to. This arms around shoulders and lips against lips- this was not a touch that said, "You are not worth the air you breathe." Slowly, Rodger moved his face back so that his lips no longer touched hers. He grinned and brushed a hand lightly over her hair. Josephine did not understand what Rodger was doing or why, but was enjoying it- this touch that said "You are not stupid or a disgrace." She wished he would touch his lips to hers again. As if in answer to her silent wish, Rodger leaned towards her and did just that. The touch lasted longer this time and Rodger's arms tightened around her. At last he drew away and stood, taking her by the hand. He said something, a strange smile on his face. Why his smile seemed strange Josephine could not determine and so she dismissed the thought. Rodger led her through the gate and into his yard. Going to the tool shed he opened the door and motioned for her to enter. She did so and Rodger followed, latching the door behind them.

Aviana sighed mournfully. "She's far too innocent for her own good."

"Not anymore."

Aviana reached out and backhanded Kreed viciously. "That was uncalled for." she bit out.

"I know. I deserved that. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to deal with this, that's all." Kreed rubbed his all ready bruising cheek.

"I know, but that was not necessary." Aviana smoothed her own throbbing knuckles. She sighed deeply, the sound of tears beneath her light voice. "It's my fault... I suggested she spend time with him."

"You said she should if she wanted to. All's you did was encourage her to think for herself for a change."

"And look what happened."

"It wasn't your fault. How could either of you have known? I'm just as much to blame from doing nothing."

Glassy tears began to slide from beneath Aviana's pale eyelashes.

"I'm sorry. Don't cry." Kreed told her, embracing her. "No one blames you. It was just a crazy accident. A crazy, terrible accident. Thing is, now what do we do?"

"We keep our fingers crossed."

Josephine felt awful, had felt awful ever since. It had been months since the first time Rodger touched her. Father had disappeared several weeks ago and had not yet come home. Mother had not come home for months and was not likely to return. Why did she feel so terrible? She always felt sick, her stomach hurt, and now her dresses were becoming too small. What was happening to her? She was so confused and so frightened, she wanted to cry. Suddenly she was seized roughly by the shoulders. Father had come home. He was angry with her about something. He shook her, hit her, hit her harder than he ever had before. He then fell to shaking her again. His face was red, almost black, and his lips curled back over his teeth as he screamed at her. He let go of one of her shoulders and smacked her across the face. Josephine's head snapped to the left then to the right and back again. Grabbing her shoulders again, he shook her harder still. His hands crept upwards around her neck. He was squeezing her as he shook her. She couldn't breathe. Josephine choked for air and was abruptly dropped. Father's face was stunned. The anger quickly returned and he shoved her to the floor, bouncing her forehead off the hardwood.

"Josephine!" Aviana dropped to her knees to lift the other young woman's head in her tender hands. "She's out. And will be for a while. I fear she may be badly hurt."

"That lousy, no good... Why I oughtta..." Kreed trailed off as he ground his teeth.

"Not now." Aviana said quietly, laying Josephine's head in her lap and placing a slender hand on Kreed's arm. "She needs us."

"It isn't right what he's doing to her. It isn't right. Somebody should do something. Should stop him"  
"I don't disagree, but we aren't the ones to do so. And besides, is what he's been doing any more wrong than what the other one did to her."

Kreed fell silent but not in admonishment. "I'll kill him for that. I would kill him, except I know she likes him. She likes him and he's using her and she doesn't even know it."

"I think somewhere, deep down, she does know it. It's not that she doesn't care, she's just used to it and so she isn't trying to fight back. She's been slapped around all her life. Why should things change now?"

"Must you say things like that?" Kreed hissed through clenched teeth. Aviana looked up at him. Tears flowed from the young hunter's single eye.

"I'm sorry. You know I gloss nothing over."

"Yeah, but you don't have to say everything."

"I'm sorry..." she said more quietly. It was Kreed's turn to sigh.

"It's all right. I just want to help her."

"As do I." Aviana blinked suddenly. "Do you realize this was the first time she has uttered a sound?"

Josephine pressed a cold washcloth to her bruised face, wincing at her own touch. Her face reflected specter-like in the glass of the window above the kitchen sink. Her lip had been split and a dark blotch spread over her left cheekbone. This did not bother her so much. It had happened before and would happen again. Her stomach, however, had never pained her like this before. It hurt her now, like the pains she endured each month only worse. Much worse. Why did it hurt like this? She inhaled sharply and dropped the cloth as a spasm of pain forced her to double over and cross her arms over her midsection, pressing them against the pain. She could not stand. Sinking to her knees, she shuddered in pain which brought on frightened tears. It hurt... She felt nauseated with the pain. A hot wetness dripped against her legs. Something was not right. In vain she tried to rise and stumble to the bathroom, but got no farther than her hands and knees. The pain was too great. Biting her already swollen lip, she carefully bent to see what was wrong. Blood, dark red and thick seeped through her underclothes and streamed down her legs onto the floor. With supreme effort, she tilted herself to one side and removed the soiled clothing. The blood dripped sluggishly onto the floor. This could not be good. Whimpering, she hugged her stomach again and leaned over so that her head nearly touched the floor. Sharp knives seemed to pierce and scratch at her from the inside. Surely that was why she bled so. She cried out against the slashing of the invisible blades. It hurt... Ah gods it hurt... Panic and terror gripped her heart, nearly overpowering the agony which throbbed through every vein and nerve in her body. Forehead touching the floor, she unclenched her eyelids as the pain receded somewhat and noticed that the blood crept towards her. It had spread beyond her knees, making a little pool of red all around her. She tried to straighten herself, but could not. Stiffened, agonized muscles forbade her much movement. Slowly, deliberately, she willed herself gradually upright. Her back still bent in submission to cramped and tingling muscles, she drew her stained skirt back above her knees. It seemed her heart froze and dropped from its place in her body and onto the floor. A tiny creature barely longer than a hand length lay curled on the floor between her legs. A bulbous little head and short, chubby arms and legs took up the majority of the little creature's body. A thin cord of pulpy red substance hung still from her body and ended at the plump little stomach of the baby. The baby... Yes. This tiny lump of human tissue was her baby... She felt as if she might be sick. With cold and shaking fingers, she took the little being into her hands. The cord of red pulp broke away from her easily under her fragile touch. Cupping the baby in both her palms, she stared at it in cold agony. This thing, this child, would have been her son. And here he lay in her hands, cold and bloodied and still. He was dead. And it was she who had killed him. Cradling the baby in her palms with tender agony, she brought him close to her breast, bowed her head and cried.

How long she cried she did not know. She became lost in her pain and in her sorrow. It was not fair. Why should such an innocent be killed before life even came to him? It was her fault... If only she had had the sense to know, she could have defended him. Father would have thought it an evil thing for her to bear Rodger's son without being married, but she cared little about that now. Her son was dead and it was her fault. Bitterly, she thought perhaps it was better this way, but cried yet harder. She seemed to drown in her own tears and blood which still slowly drained from her. She did not care or even notice. Dimly, she felt a hand upon her shoulder. Her face slick and sticky with crying, she lifted her head and started through her grief. Father knelt before her, a crooked finger under her chin, gently forcing her to look into his eyes. His face was quiet with a smooth expression she did not recognize. His eyebrows sloped gently down towards the outside of his face and his eyes were soft. Never had anyone looked upon her like this. Tears running down her face, she held her dead son before him. A single tear trailed from Father's eye. Softly, he bent forward and kissed her forehead, placing his hands over her stillborn child. Taking it from her, he wrapped the child in his handkerchief, stood and went outside. Josephine watched him do all this too stunned to move. She could not guess how long father was gone. Time did not exist now. She knelt still in her blood, unable to move. Distantly, she felt Father's heavy step on the wooden floor. He crouched before her again. Gently stroking her hair, he handed her a scrub brush then rose and left. She stared after him blankly, feeling nausea rise within her. Choking, she spat blood and bile onto the floor. Eyes brimming with new tears, she clutched the scrub brush and fell on her face on the floor. Her hands now only filled with cold blood, she cried herself into darkness.

When at last she awoke, cold, stiff, filthy, and in pain, she found she had strength enough to rise to her hands and knees. It was daylight but there was no sun. Instead the sky outside the kitchen window was deathly gray. She dragged herself away from the mess still standing in the middle of the kitchen floor and towards the narrow stairway. If only she could lie down in her own bed... Laboriously, she pulled herself to her feet and crawled upwards and into her room. Flopping onto her bed, she reeled into a dreamless sleep.

It was so hot... She felt so terrible. If only Mother were here... But Mother would not help, she would just disappear again. She had been gone for months now. It was unlikely she would return. Father would do no good either. He would just slap her some more and lock her in her room. Only Maybell, her doll, was here. She clutched the worn toy to her chest. Maybell was at least as old as Josephine. Maybell was always there to comfort however she could, but she could not help now. Tears slid down Josephine's cheeks and onto the doll's raveled curls. It was too hot... Her stomach hurt so badly, even worse than it had that last time. No blood came with this pain, just a feeling of life slowly being drained away. Surely she would die here on her bed in her little room. Who could help her? Rodger might help her, but he was outside and Father would have locked her in and taken the keys with him. If only Father hadn't locked the door. She would have liked to go outside into the cool rain that was beating down on the tin roof. Josephine wasn't even sure if she could stand. Shakily, she slid off her narrow bed and stumbled towards the door in a daze of fever heat, arm still shakily around Maybell. She opened the door with trembling fingers and nearly fell down the steep stairs which connected her attic room to the rest of the single storey house. Father had indeed locked the door, but she took a knife from one of the kitchen drawers and jimmied the latches apart. Cool air rushed in as she laboriously pushed the screen door open and staggered across the yard and into Rodger's. The windows were dark. No one was home. Sick with despair, Josephine collapsed onto the back stoop of Rodger's house. She lay where she had fallen and did not move.

"Would you call this a curse or a blessing."

"I wouldn't know. I'm not a woman." Kreed stated. Aviana looked at him sharply.

"I was trying your sarcasm technique."

"And?"

Kreed sighed. "It didn't work. I feel so awful for her." He brushed a hand over Josephine's uneven black bob. "I guess it's just as well she never figured it out and nothing really came of it but... Honestly, I feel absolutely SICK."

"Me too."

"She's such a nice girl... Why do they have to pick on her like this?"

"Perhaps it's her lot in life. I don't pretend to understand how the universe's work. Perhaps this- twisted and cruel as it is- is her destiny."

"Aviana, that is just plain sick, even for you."

"It is, isn't it. I don't know how else to explain it." Aviana sank from her knees to a sitting position on the floor. "Half of me wishes she wouldn't have survived that night of being in the rain. The other half of me is slapping the first half for even thinking that."

"You too, huh?"

"She deserves so much better than this. Would there really be a point in her going on living? Her Mother never did care about her, her Father finds her shameful, the Katsuya's think she's just white trash- the pot calling the kettle black if ever I heard it- and Rodger just takes what he wants from her. Who would miss her? Not even Rodger. He could find another bitch for himself. Oh it might be a little harder, but I'll just bet the boy loves a challenge."

"I don't blame you for being unusually bitter tonight. I feel the same way. Nothing would please me more than to put an arrow through the eye of the whole lot of them. Except that wouldn't get us anywhere. What do you DO about a situation like this?"

"If we existed in this realm I'd tell you."

"If we existed in this realm you wouldn't need to."

It was her fault. It must be. It was always her fault. How could it not be her fault? Father stood facing Rodger's Mother and Father. They had been arguing and casting angry glances at her for some time now. Rodger stood behind his Mother and Father looking at the floor and then at her by turns. Josephine curled up tighter on the short sofa and hugged Maybell against her chest. Rodger's Mother and Father had taken her back once Father had come home again. Josephine did not want to be where she was. Rodger's Mother and Father had left her alone as near as she could tell. She did not actually remember being in Rodger's house much. She remembered dropping onto the back step of his house, but that was about all. Why were they all so mad at her now? Rodger's Mother and Father had left with Father and now she and Rodger were in the living room alone. Rodger sat across the bare little room atop a cushioned crate, head in his hands. He appeared to be crying. She could make no one happy. Rodger stood suddenly, his face tear-streaked yet his expression was one of stone and not of grief. He stared at her through his glasses as one might look down on an unwanted mouse caught in the living room. With disgust. Why was he looking at her like this? His face was like Father's. Josephine shivered under her blanket, suddenly chilled with fear. Rodger crossed the floor to where she lay on the faded, plush sofa. He knelt so that he did not tower over her quite as much and coldly drew the blanket down to her shoulders. With the same hand he slapped her across the face. Josephine's head snapped to one side from the force of his hand. She blinked in confusion as Rodger growled something at her then got up and left, slamming the door behind him. Josephine curled up on the sofa and cried. Rodger had become Father.

"Blessed..." Aviana whispered, her silent breath shaking. Kreed felt it too and took her trembling hand.

"What? Has it"

"Yes." Aviana breathed. "She's dead. She's separated herself from everything. From her world, her people, everything-- Including us. Kreed... we can't stay."

"What! Aviana we HAVE to! We're all she has left! We're all she's EVER had!" He was crying now. Aviana did not bother to brush at her own frightened tears.

"Kreed we can't stay. You know we can't. How can one remain in the mind of a corpse? Oh yes she'll go on living and breathing and going through the paces, but her heart is gone, her spirit has been silenced. The essence of her soul has been snuffed out. Better to look for her in the land of the dead and try to bring her into our minds rather than try to remain in hers. This place will only crumble around us. All ready the walls are cracking. Look."

Kreed did look and saw that Aviana's words were true. The mental world that Josephine had kept guarded in the recesses of her scarred mind was falling to pieces.

"Kreed..." Aviana looked up into his face with tears in her eyes, "we must go."

He nodded. "Josephine... Forgive us."

Silently, they vanished. The last of the mental Elesius crumbled to rubble, dissolved into dust, and finally disappeared into nothing.

So it was that Josephine's Father and Rodger's Father and Mother decided that Josephine and Rodger should go away and live together. Somewhere, the fact that she was now married to a person she had once considered benign registered in Josephine's numbed brain. She thawed minimally when her stomach began to grow round again. Soft touches and a kinder expression told her Rodger was pleased this time. He was even more pleased when the baby turned out to be a boy. Feeling faded quickly, however, as the child Rodger had named "Hojo" grew older and Josephine once again became dead to the world before he was two years old. She barely noticed either her unwilling husband or son as life went on without her. Rodger was often cross with her or with Hojo. She never considered why he might be upset and barely noticed that he was, in fact, angry. Seventeen years passed and Hojo left. Rodger oscillated from pride to anger but Josephine did not notice.

Rodger was going on about something in what Josephine had come to identify as his lecture tone. She didn't know or care about whatever it was he was talking about and barely noticed that he was talking. For twenty-one years Josephine had been estranged from the world and even from herself. It was as though she sat huddled in some small, dark, bare room in the depths of her mind watching the silent movie of her life flicker past on a screen. She watched, but was not part of what was going on.

She continued to look out the car's windshield, not really seeing anything. Rodger pulled into the intersection, still rambling. Josephine's eyes widened a little and she inhaled reflexively as another vehicle entered the intersection but did not stop. A quick attempt to brace herself and the other car's nose slammed into the door of the driver's side. Josephine had time to feel the sickening crunch of metal meeting metal and the force of the two now interlocked vehicles as they began to skid before her head connected with the passenger side window. A sickening snap sent her into oblivion.  
Josephine awoke on her back in a bed in a clean white room. She had never been in one, but knew this must be the inside of a hospital. But why? Ah yes. The car crash. She must be hurt. She soon found this to be true. She could move nothing, not turn her head, or even blink her eyes. She could only lay where she was and stare at the ceiling. How long she lay there, she wasn't entirely sure, nor did she really care. Sometimes someone would come and lay a damp cloth over her eyes to compensate for her inability to blink. The sun came up and disappeared twice from the window which cast its shadow of light across her in the afternoon. Somewhere after the second sunrise Hojo came into her line of vision. He stared down at her, face blank, hands in his pockets. He opened his mouth and sighed, glancing over his shoulder briefly. Looking down at her, he began to speak. Josephine followed his lips carefully.

"They told me you were still alive. Father had died on the way to the hospital, but you've held on these past two days."

He paused.

"Why? Why bother to go on living? You'd be just as dead as you have always been. You were always dead. Too dead to get out of the way when father lost his temper, too dead to pay any attention to your own son. I was never proud of being father's son. You... You were just...there. It was as if you never truly existed. I can't say I ever loved you and I can't say I'll miss you when you do decide to die. I'm sorry, mother, but could you expect any more from someone whom you treated like a piece of furniture? I didn't mind. You left me alone. Why, I don't know, but you did. And now I leave you alone.

"Goodbye, Mother." With that, he turned his back on her and left.

Cold tears formed and slid down Josephine's cheeks. Somewhere inside, the movie flickered to a stop. Without even so much as a "The End", the dim light went out and Josephine was left alone in the barren darkness. Soon, she too abandoned what was left of what had once, very long ago, been herself.

_Finn_


End file.
